A little favour
by I'm Nova
Summary: To distract Sherlock from the Irene matter, John asks his help with technology. One of two planned offers for this month's Sherlock challenge on Tumblr, "Happy Birthday".


_Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Also, my timeline is probably all messed up respect to canon – I tried to use John's blog for help, but that doesn't seem very consistent, either. Or I'm an idiot. ^^'''_

A little favour

January 2012 is about half gone, and Sherlock is still in full Irene mood. Which means…god knows what, frankly. His blogger has never been more frustrated (not jealous, thank you very much), but he can't blame the detective for being a bit obsessed. This isn't just a case. Not even just a case with an exceptionally clever antagonist, like Moriarty. Said antagonist is also gorgeous, kinky (which might help if Mycroft is wrong, what with the detective's interest in experimentation) and with her fake dying and reviving in the span of a week – though that was two weeks ago – she has to have given the sleuth emotional whiplash, no matter what he feels for her.

John…it's not that he wants to distract his flatmate. Much less attract his attention, so that he will forget her for a minute at least. But if he has to hear 'her' song from the violin once again, he's going to scream. So he says the first thing flitting through his brain. "You have quite a bit of hacking talent, right?"

"I hope you're not doubting that," the sleuth replies, glaring but – blessedly – putting his instrument down.

"No, not doubting, just – wondering if you would help me with a thing. It should take you no more than a minute or two," the doctor remarks airily.

"Sure, but…well, I didn't think you'd want to hack anything. Found some cyberbully you need me to put in their place?" Sherlock asks, starting his friend's pc, which lay abandoned on the low table by the sofa.

"Nothing like that – on or offline, I know how to deal with bullies. They usually end up regretting even coming close to me and mine," John retorts, with one of his dangerous smiles, "no, I was wondering if you could help me with a thing about the blog. It might be as easy as changing settings, but it might be something they wouldn't let me modify…hence the need for hacking."

The detective sighs the sigh of the very much put upon. "How you live in this day and age with so little knowledge of technology, I'll never figure it out, John. But sure. What do you plan to do? Change theme?" he asks.

"What is a theme? No, never mind that. The blog…well, it's sent me a 'Happy blog birthday and thanks for sticking with us' message last year," the once unwilling blogger explains. He doesn't doubt that they would send him a proper happy birthday too, if he had ever bothered to fill the form. But when he created it, he was too mentally exhausted to do more than the bare minimum required, and after there were much more interesting things to do than fill one's profile.

"And you want me to stop them?" the sleuth queries. Why doesn't his friend just delete the message if it annoys him?

"No…I want to change my 'blog birthday'. Or, well, I hope you will change it. If you need to delete my first posts for that, feel free to, the last thing I want is permanent reminder of how I felt back then," John clarifies, with a little shrug.

"I can do that, sure. I think I'll even manage to save your posts, unless you specifically want me to delete them," Sherlock agrees, hitting keys very quickly. "So? Which blog birthday do you want?"

"January 29th," the doctor announces softly.

"That is…" the consulting detective's voice trails off, a weird knot taking residence in his throat.

"When we met, yes. What can I say, you were right, as usual. It might be my blog, but it's about you. And if any day needs celebrating – to be marked as a new start – it's not the one when I made an account on Ella's orders and stared at the screen like an idiot for two hours, managing literally one word," John ends for him. And that word had been 'Nothing', on top of that.

"If you're sure…it's done," the detective declares, a flourish accompanying his pressing the final key. If his voice is a bit croaky, it's not because he's moved. Of course not. He might be coming down with something. Good thing he has a doctor flatmate.

"Thank you," John says, swallowing back the 'love' that almost slipped out. "Would tea and some of the homemade chocolate biscuits that Mrs. Hudson brought up earlier be an acceptable recompense?"

"They most certainly would be," Sherlock agrees, his tone solemn. A moment later, they're both giggling together.


End file.
